I’m picking up almost from where I left off last week. Troop three is off to collect firewood, Cynfal persuaded Gwion he might like to go and when he turned up Cynon agreed, with a few reservations.
Gwion turned his head, searching the line of trudging men with eyes bright with mischief. He found Cynfal gave him a little nod too and spun the stallion to trot him back along the line. At first Cynfal thought he was the goal but the white pony, Swan, had other ideas. Ears pricked, he huffed a squeal of recognition and almost pulled Cynfal’s arm out of socket as he darted to meet the stallion. They met nose to nose, snuffling loudly and Gwion smiled.
“Friends,” he explained.
More next week.